


An Irrational Pickle

by Liminal_Space_LLC



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, Getting Together, Literal Hockey Robot Jack Zimmermann, M/M, Meet-Cute, NHL Player Jack Zimmermann, Pi Day, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-07 00:36:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18227537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liminal_Space_LLC/pseuds/Liminal_Space_LLC
Summary: Jack gets butterflies in his stomach every time he even thinks about Bitty's Bakery, to say nothing of how he feels about the blonde baker, Bitty. Yet when the bakery has a Pi Day disaster, Jack will have to overcome his anxiety and step up to save Bitty's Bakery from going under.





	An Irrational Pickle

**Author's Note:**

> I know Pi Day has come and gone, but Pi Day love is never ending :)

It was an unseasonably warm day for March, the blustery, delicious aftermath of last night’s thunderstorms. Jack wove between puddles and wandered into a rain shower on his morning jog and returned to his apartment soaked to the skin. Under the showerhead he contemplated what he might do with his day off. With the playoffs so close, the trainers were constantly on him to rest, so maybe he should watch some tape. Or perhaps read that book on leadership he got from Thirdy.

In any case, he knew his first stop.

Jack didn’t go to Bitty’s Bakery very often. It was a little out of his way, and the team got free coffee at the Dunkin’ Donuts center, and, really, nothing there fit on his diet plan. It was irresponsible to go there.

That was what Jack told himself, anyway. The truth was somewhat less rational.

Every time Jack thought about Bitty’s Bakery, he got a peculiar wriggling sensation in his stomach. The feeling frightened him. It had no analog in hockey, so he did not understand it. He particularly did not understand the way the feeling intensified when the shop owner looked at him with those enormous brown eyes, blew a lock of blond hair off his forehead, and asked him, “The usual, sugar?” in a lilting Southern accent. When that happened, Jack usually lost his ability to speak, and he simply nodded. He’d gotten “the usual” for the past three months because he just couldn’t put the words together to say otherwise. He was getting tired of cinnamon buns.

When he arrived at the bakery today, though, the owner was nowhere to be seen. The bakery was packed, with almost every seat filled and the line wrapped around two walls. Jack tugged his cap down and snuck into the back of the line, covertly watching the counter, hoping guiltily that the blond baker would appear.

Jack heard the baker before he saw him. Somewhere in the back of the kitchen, a familiar Southern voice cried out, “Oh, Lord! Are you alright?!”

The whole restaurant went quiet, all gazing toward the kitchen. Even the babies stopped babbling. A moment later, a small Southeast Asian woman with an undercut emerged. She announced curtly, “Everyone’s fine. Nothing to worry about.” Then she disappeared back into the kitchens, and the bakery filled with chatter again.

The blond baker appeared a few minutes later to take over the cash register. He greeted the line with his usual sweet smile and friendly chitchat, but Jack noticed his eyes looked a little red. His laugh sounded a little strained. If the baker were a hockey player, Jack would say he was playing through an injury.

Out of habit, Jack started giving the baker his injury onceover. Jack started with the baker’s honey gold head, then his elegant collarbones, then his surprising substantial shoulders…

At that point, Jack had to stop. He felt a heat rise in his cheeks, and he stared at the menu. He distracted himself by trying to remember all the foods’ names in Russian.

Then a voice asked him, “Sugar, you ready to order?”

The baker was watching him with a small, amused smile.

“Sorry. Got distracted by the…words. May I get a small black coffee and a croissant, please?”

“No pie for Pi Day? The key lime is to die for. And we have lots extra.” There was something bitter in his tone.

“Why the extra? This place is packed.” Jack gestured stupidly at the crowd.

The backer sighed as he entered Jack’s order. “The car that was supposed to deliver pies today is out of commission, so we have a fridge full of pies with no place to go.”

“I’m so sorry.”

The baker smiled sadly. Jack pulled out his card to pay and watched as the baker ran it through the machine. Jack thought the baker’s eyes looked extra shiny, and his heart hurt. He wanted desperately to do something.

The baker handed back Jack’s receipt. He wrote down his tip and signed it. Then, just as the baker was saying, “Well, have a nice—” Jack blurted out, “I have a car.”

The baker blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“I have a car. And this is my day off. I can drive the pies, if you want.”

The baker’s jaw dropped. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Then come around the counter! You need to meet Lardo! Christopher, please handle the register for a few minutes while I take this lovely gentleman around back!”

Jack followed the baker through the kitchens, keeping his elbows tucked in close. The baker kept up a constant stream of thanks. “I cannot believe our good fortune! I was really so afraid—Pi Day is very important for us, and we took so many orders—you will never believe how relieved I am, Mr.…?

“Jack. My name is Jack.”

“I’m Bitty! Eric Bittle, really, but everyone calls me Bitty!” His hands flew around as he talked. They were still slightly pale with flour. When they reached the back of the kitchen, Bitty opened a door. “Lardo! I have found a knight in shining armor!”

The woman with the undercut looked up from a stack of papers on a desk. The room looked like a normal office but with more pictures of food. “Hello?”

“Hi, I’m Jack.”

“Lardo.”

“Jack is going to deliver the pies!”

The woman—Lardeau?—looked at him wide-eyed. “You have a car?”

“Yeah. It’s not here right now, but if you give me half an hour, I can go get it.”

She nodded absently and started frantically to search the desk. “Okay. Please bring your car insurance info, your driver’s license, your bank account number and routing number, or we can pay you in cash—”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to pay me.”

Bitty looked up at him incredulously. “Sugar, we have to pay you! You’re saving our business!” He had a little smudge of flour on his jaw.

Jack swallowed. “Don’t worry about it. Please. I love this bakery. I’d hate to see it go.”

Bitty’s eyes were wide. “You really are a knight in shining armor.”

Bitty was so cute. His nose turned up just at the end, and he had a little cowlick at the very crown of his head. Right now, his cheeks were the sweetest and most delicate shade of pink.

Lardeau cleared her throat loudly. “Well, that’s great Jack. We’ll see you in half an hour. Please bring all your insurance papers with you. Just drive around back by the air conditioning unit.”

Bitty led Jack to the back door. “See you soon, Mr. Knight.”

“Mr. Knight was my college roommate,” Jack joked, “I’m Mr. Zimmermann.”

Bitty giggled. “Then goodbye, Jack Zimmermann.”

Jack damn near sprinted to his apartment. He double- and triple-checked that he had every single piece of paper relevant to his car. Then he grabbed his wallet, his passport, and his lucky puck then careened down to the building parking lot.

He zipped through Providence more quickly than he should, but when he’d gotten back to the bakery, not twenty-five minutes had passed.

Lardo greeted him at the back door. “That was speedy. Do you have—?” Jack held out his small filing box of papers. Lardo took the box and peered in. “Cool. Let me go enter some of this into our files—Rans is going to explain the system to you. Rans!”

A tall black guy looked up from the tray of cupcakes he was decorating. He gave Jack an apologetic smile, and Jack realized with a sinking feeling that the guy was wearing a Falcs T-Shirt. He nearly ran out of the kitchens right then, but he made himself stay put. Bitty needed him.

The guy—Rance?—scurried over, grabbing a clipboard from the wall. He glanced around and whispered, “Don’t worry bro. Your secret is safe with me!”

“Thank you.”

“ _Pas de quoi_ , dude. Anyway, this spreadsheet has everything you need to know for the deliveries.”

Rans carefully explained the system. Mercifully it was extremely methodical, and Jack picked it up pretty fast. Rans helped Jack load up the first batch into the car. Lardo handed him back his papers. “You’re good to go, bro. Thanks for helping us out.”

Jack spent all day driving around Providence, loading and unloading pies from his car. A couple kids recognized him, but their parents seemed to have blinders on and seemed not to notice him at all. It was overall pretty nice work, except for the people who yelled at him for giving them cold pie. He tried to explain that custard pies were supposed to be cold, but that didn’t seem to comfort them.

He delivered the last round of pies as the sun was setting. Driving back to Bitty’s Bakery in the dark, his body was bone tired.

The bakery had closed a couple hours ago. When he’d gone around for the final batch, only Bitty and Rans remained, talking over the shop’s finances.

This time, when Jack knocked on the door this time, Bitty opened it. He had a wan look about him, but he smiled. “Jack! My hero! Come in. I have something for you.” He grabbed Jack’s wrist and tugged him through the empty kitchen.

“I told you, you don’t need to pay me.”

“I know, Mr. Nine Million Dollars a Year!” Bitty shook his head with amusement.

Jack’s heart sank. “Rans said—”

Bitty glanced back impishly. “Rans didn’t need to tell me! Honey, you’re trending on Twitter.”

“Oh.”

Bitty laughed. “You thought you could just go around this city with that face and not get noticed?”

“I have a notable face, eh?”

Bitty’s cheeks went pink. “Oh, you. Now, come here. Try this.” He opened a small oven and pulled out a pan bearing three gorgeous, golden croissants. They smelled like heaven.

“Ha. But I only asked for one.”

“Well tough cookies. You’re getting three.”

Jack picked up the middle croissant. Fine flakes fell away at his touch, and it was just barely cool enough to hold. He tugged away one end with a lovely crisp sound, revealing the pillowy inside. It crunched beautifully between his teeth and just fell apart in his mouth. The inside was like a buttered cloud. Jack made a sound that was not totally appropriate for casual acquaintances. “Bitty, it’s incredible.”

When Jack looked up from the croissant, Bitty was watching him with the biggest, brightest, most beautiful brown eyes. “You take those home with you, then. Share them with someone special.”

There was something tight in Bitty’s voice, and Jack couldn’t stand it. He wanted to make Bitty smile again. Surely a croissant would make Bitty smile. “Could I share them with you?”

Bitty’s mouth opened with surprise. His cheeks were on fire. Jack suddenly realized what he’d said. He didn’t regret it.

Bitty set down the croissants and stared at the counter. “Jack, you don’t hardly know me.”

Jack took Bitty’s hand. “Can I get a chance?”

Their eyes met for a long, breathless moment. Jack felt that a full battalion could have marched through that kitchen and he would not have moved. If Bitty needed him to, he would stand here forever.

“Well I do have a good bottle of wine in the office I’ve been itching to give an open.” Bitty smiled like the rising sun.

Jack’s heart was beating so loudly he could hear it in his ears. “And I’ve got an apartment nearby.”

“Will you give me a ride in that pretty BMW?” Bitty bit his bottom lip, and Jack felt his knees threaten to give way. He was lucky he’d gone to all the Falcs’ extra endurance practices.

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Then you’ve got a deal, Jack Zimmermann.”

Jack followed Bitty out into the night, now growing cold again, winter remembering itself. They drove through the sleepy streets of Providence, talking about nothing and everything, and they talked their way through the bottle of wine in his apartment. That night Jack slept with his nose buried in Bitty’s sweet-smelling hair.

Jack did not ever deliver pies for Bitty’s Bakery again. He did, however, do kisses express.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you have thoughts or feelings or reaction gifs for me, I'm also Liminal-Space-LLC on [Tumblr](https://liminal-space-llc.tumblr.com) and [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/Liminal-Space-LLC).


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